


No Ifs, Ands, or Cuts

by lydslibrary



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester/Male Reader - Freeform, Fluff, Implied Smut, Kissing, M/M, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:07:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27613904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lydslibrary/pseuds/lydslibrary
Summary: Dean constantly makes fun of Sam's long locks, but you have long hair, too. You ask Dean to cut it, figuring he might like the short-haired look better on you. You were wrong.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Male Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49





	No Ifs, Ands, or Cuts

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request from an anon on Tumblr!  
> Request: I’d love to request a Dean Winchester x Male Reader piece. One where the reader has long hair (as I do) and he overhears Dean making fun of Sam’s hair so he asks Dean to cut his hair for him. Only for Dean to immediately deny his boyfriend’s request and show him just how pretty he thinks his hair is.  
> So, here's where my brain went with it!

“Any luck?” Sam asked as you sat with him in the bunker’s library, looking for anything that would help with your current case.

“Nope,” you sighed, closing the giant book of lore that you’d been staring at for the past hour in frustration. “You?” Sam shook his head without looking up from his book, his long chestnut locks falling in front of his face before he ran a hand through his hair to push them out of the way.

“What are you two up to?” Dean asked as he came wandering into the library, three beers in hand. You smiled at your boyfriend when you saw him; you loved Sam but when it came to research, he wasn’t much company. Next to nothing could pull his nose out of a book when he was determined to find something.

“Research. Wanna help?” You asked, taking Dean’s beer offering from one of his hands.

“Hmm,” he thought, taking a sip of his bottle and sitting down next to you, “I think I’d rather watch.” You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your beer as Dean pushed the third bottle across the table towards Sam, who caught it with an irritated look on his face. “Who pissed on your pancakes?” Dean questioned, noting Sam’s annoyed sigh.

“You just did. Lost my place on the page,” Sam huffed, looking back down at the book in front of him, his hair falling into his face again.

“That ain’t my fault. Maybe if you’d cut your damn hair, you wouldn’t lose your place. How can you even see the damn page?” Dean teased, taking another sip of his drink.

“My hair’s fine. I lost my place because you threw a beer at me,” Sam muttered, as he traced the page with his index finger, trying to find the sentence that he had been in the middle of.

“Alright, whatever,” Dean hummed, looking over at you. You were a bit put off by what he had said about Sam’s hair – yours was long, too. It wasn’t unlike Dean to make fun of Sam for just about everything, but when it came to the hair, it made you wonder if Dean might like the short-haired look better on you. “Wanna leave him to it?” Dean whispered with a wink. Translation: I’m horny, let’s have sex. You sighed and looked in Sam’s direction, who simply brushed you off with a wave of his hand. Translation: Please, get him out of here. Whatever it takes. You chuckled and looked back to Dean, standing up and stretching, some of your joints cracking as you did so; you hadn’t realized how long you’d been sitting.

“Alright, c’mon,” you smiled, as you began making your way out of the library, Dean at your heels.

Dean wasted no time closing the door behind him as he followed you into the bedroom. He grabbed you by your bicep, spinning you around and pushing your back up against the cold brick wall. Dean began trailing kisses down your neck and collarbone, his fingertips dancing at the edge of your t-shirt. You tried to focus on him, on his soft lips sucking bruises into your neck, on his thumbs now grazing your v-line, but all you could think about was your fucking hair. How it did constantly get in your way, how Dean always teased Sam about his, how you just wanted to look your best for your man. “Wait,” you breathed. You hated yourself for making him stop but dammit, you needed an answer. You weren’t going to be able to enjoy a single thing if you didn’t get a damn answer. “Wait, Dean,” you sighed, pushing slightly against Dean’s chest.   
“Are you okay?” Dean questioned, concern lining his voice as he took a step back. He looked at you, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Yeah, yeah, just… Do you want to cut my hair?” You realized how stupid the question might have sounded to Dean when he probably wasn’t aware of the context. Stopping foreplay for _this_ , good job Y/N. “You know what, never mind,” you said, attempting to resume the make-out session by closing the gap between you and your boyfriend.

“Nuh-uh, not so fast,” Dean chuckled, moving his head out of the reach of your lips. “Sit down,” Dean commanded gently, pointing to the bed. You sighed and took a seat on the edge of the mattress, Dean doing the same. “What’s this whole cutting hair business about?”

“Will you? Cut mine? I just hear all the comments you make to Sam and I figured that you might like mine better short, too,” you shrugged, looking to Dean for an answer. He gave you a sympathetic look and shook his head.

“I will absolutely not be cutting your hair. First of all, I am probably the _worst_ barber on the planet and secondly… babe, I love your hair the way it is.”

You felt yourself breathe a sigh of relief. “You do? But all the stuff you say about Sam’s –”

“That’s just ‘cause he’s my brother and I like getting on his nerves. Don’t pay attention to any of that. Listen,” Dean said, pausing to allow you time to bring your eyes to meet his, “you are so damn handsome. Way out of my league,” he smiled, causing you to smile, too. “Plus,” he added, “if you didn’t have this hair I wouldn’t be able to do this.” Dean ran his fingers through your locks, stopping to grab them and gently pull your head to the side, exposing your neck to him. He attacked your neck with his lips again, and this time you were fully aware of the bulge forming in your pants as Dean leaned over you and guided you down to the bed, his hand still wrapped in your hair.

“That was… wow,” you chuckled breathily, running a hand through your locks as you laid on your back and stared up at the ceiling. Dean turned on his side to face you and pulled your hand out your hair, replacing it with his own. You looked at him to find that he was already staring at you, his green eyes sparkling with nothing but love for you. He continued to play with your hair as the two of you laid there, just looking at each other, his fingers continuously running through your long locks. “You sure you don’t want to cut it?” You joked, after a few minutes of feeling him run his fingers through your hair.

Dean faked offense before responding in a serious tone. “Don’t joke about it. Don’t even _think_ about it. I love it, and I love you, and don’t you ever forget it.”

“And what if I do forget?”

“Well, then I guess I’ll just have to remind you again, won’t I?” Dean said with a wink. You rolled your eyes and chuckled as Dean scooted closer to you and placed his head on your chest. You smiled at his proximity; the warmth of his face on your skin and his stubble scratching your pecs. Usually it was you in this position, lying on Dean, listening to _his_ heartbeat, so you tried to take in these moments when they happened. You began running your hand through his hair just as he had been doing to you and he let out a content sigh.

“Hey… have you ever thought about growing your hair out?” You teased as you continued to intertwine your fingers in his short locks. Dean let out a chuckle.

“Gel no.”

“Did you just – was that a hair pun?”


End file.
